Gammer. No, master, no indeed, for then he should have lied;
My cock is, I thank Christ, safe and well a-fine.
Chat. Yea, but that rugged colt, that whore, that Tib of thine,
Said plainly thy cock was stol'n, and in my house was eaten;
That lying cut is lost, that she is not swinged and beaten.
And yet for all my good name it were a small amends;
I pick not this gear (hear'st thou) out of my fingers' ends.
But he that heard it told me, who thou of late didst name:
Diccon, whom all men knows, it was the very same.